


Pumpkin Eater

by Tackles



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, end pairing is Johnny/Pinky, i am garbage, mentions of Pinky/Derby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6346084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tackles/pseuds/Tackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny's troubles with Lola reach a breaking point, and he finds himself in an unexpected friendship with someone in the same boat. There are a lot of reasons not to fall in love with the queen of the preps. None of them seem to be convincing Johnny not to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Breaking Point

It’s cold. Lola’s house is dark inside except for one light, which Johnny knows is coming from her bedroom. He is familiar with the window that’s aglow; they got well acquainted over the summers he spent climbing in and out of it. Lola’s parents aren’t home tonight, so this time he goes for the front door instead. It’s an uneven off-white, and the thick paint always sticks when he tries to swing the door open. As he raises his hand to knock, the porch light comes on.

He’s here because Lola rang him and pleaded in a honeyed voice for him to come, so it makes sense that she’s expecting him. It makes sense that she opens the door before he raps on it. It makes sense that she’s wearing nothing beneath her thin, white shirt to keep her nipples from poking through, and no pants to cover her pale, curving legs. In the shadow of the doorway, she stands out in stark contrast. Johnny smiles at her, and it is for more reasons than the anticipation of having her in an empty house, where they can do whatever they like together. He is glad to see his girl, and glad that she is his, at least for tonight. There are too many nights where she isn’t; he spends them wondering where she is, and who with. Those nights, he’s not so happy that Lola has a talent for standing out.

She looks absolutely gorgeous. For all the times that Lola has strung him along and played him like a fool, Johnny can’t believe how lucky he is sometimes. He wishes he knew how to tell her or show her. She might just stop straying then.

“Heya Johnny.” Her voice belongs on a video tape on a shelf in Come Hither.

He doesn’t answer. He is much better at showing than telling. Lola lets out a squeal of delight when he steps over the threshold and puts his hands on her hips, steering her back until they touch the wall. The warmth of her skin beneath the T-shirt she’s wearing banishes the cold from his fingers. They anchor him to her, and their lips come together without ceremony. Her mouth is ten times hotter than her skin. She tastes a little like mouthwash and a lot like her favorite red lipstick. Sighing at him, Lola digs her nails into the back of his neck gently, applying just enough pressure to make his skin tingle.

“I missed you too, baby,” she purrs into his ear, hiking one leg up and around him.

Johnny puts his hand on her thigh and drags it up until her lacy, black panties get in the way. She mouths his jaw, leaving a trail of little wet kisses. He loves her. He loves the way her perfume smells, and how it doesn’t quite disguise the scent of cigarettes. He loves the way her mouth feels on his skin. He loves how wet she is when he slides his hand underneath the lace to touch her. Lola places a soft, pornstar moan directly in his ear and it goes straight through him like a lightning bolt. She pushes hard against his hand.

“So eager tonight.” She says it approvingly, like it’s a pleasant surprise, but it’s not like she doesn’t always do this to him.

“Bedroom?” His voice is barely louder than a whisper.

Lola’s eyes are rimmed with black eyeliner and dark with desire when she looks at him. She can’t keep the smile off her face. She has always loved the power she holds over him, and he has never minded. That smile affects him more than any of her whimpers or sighs. He almost adds a “please” to his request, but she lowers her leg, grabs hold of his jacket, and guides him down the hall before he can speak. The house is dark inside except for Lola’s room, but even if her lights were off, Johnny could find it. He’s got a map of her home inside his head and all routes lead to her bedroom.

Her leopard-print sheets are immaculate, like her. She has a gift for keeping up appearances, making even the tiniest room in her parents’ small, cheap house seem luxurious. The weight of the two of them combined scatters black and scarlet pillows to each side of the bed when Lola pushes him onto it and climbs on top of him, humming in delight. In this position, she can feel how hard he is beneath his jeans. She grinds playfully and claws of pleasure drag through him. With a smirk, Lola lifts off her T-shirt and her breasts slip free, tipped with nipples that are peaked in arousal. Johnny can’t stop his hands. He is already cupping them before Lola even manages to get the shirt off all the way. She lets out a girlish giggle as she tosses it aside.

She’s so impossibly soft in every place her body curves. Even her eyes are soft, brown doe-eyes. A few strands of her hair bounce in front of her face and she moves her hips against him. Lola likes being on top of him; she loves to be in control. And that’s a good thing, because Johnny is swept up in her like a hurricane at times like this, and he needs her to guide him. As many times as he’s been in this room, as many times as he’s been in her, she somehow still makes him feel like he’s fumbling in the dark and she’s the only one who knows the way. She puts her hands over his and hugs them tight to her breasts, rocking. Johnny swallows hard and rolls his hips into her. He doesn’t even mind that the pressure is almost painful.

Dropping his hands, Lola shimmies out of her lacy underwear, giving him a heavy-lidded stare all the while. His whole body aches in anticipation. She pulls him up until he’s sitting, letting her impatient side shine through as she drags his prized jacket from his shoulders and throws it aside. Next comes the shirt. She slides her hands over his bared stomach and chest, her palms like hot coals. He breathes hard through his nose, afraid of what might come out if he opens his mouth. A lot of confessions and promises are clustering at the back of his throat and Lola doesn’t like either of those things very much. His hand hovers at the base of her spine, tempted to pull her closer but waiting, waiting to see what she’ll do. Her own fingers dive to unbutton his pants, and she slides off of him so he can pull off the rest of his clothes. She purrs appreciatively when it’s done, brushes her fingers against the underside of his cock, and giggles when his muscles tense up.

She keeps condoms in her top dresser drawer and she applies them like a pro. He lets her climb back onto him and lower herself down at her own pace, which is excruciatingly slow, like she just likes to watch him struggle not to make a sound, not to grab her by the hips and push her the rest of the way down. Then she settles her rear against his thighs and grinds with a breathy, mewling sound, and he snaps. His fingers dig into her hips as he fucks her, and she moans her enthusiasm for the whole neighborhood to hear. Lola absolutely loves it when he loses control, and god help him if he doesn’t love it, too.

When it’s done, he’s covered in marks from her pretty red nails and she is flushed and panting, her lipstick smudged to the side. Johnny lies bonelessly on the bed as she sashays into the bathroom. He’ll go next, but he can’t even think about moving right now, with his brain still trying to reorient itself. The water runs and he hears her humming. When she comes back out, her lipstick is fixed and she’s pawed her hair into a more deliberate mess. She crawls into bed next to him and kisses his cheek, giving him a predatory stare as he makes his way into the bathroom. He disposes of the condom, thinking about how unromantic this part is – he’s glad Lola doesn’t care, at least – and then chances a glance at the mirror. There are angry marks all down his chest. He smiles at that.

As he goes to leave, the silver watch lying near the sink catches his eye. It’s not a woman’s watch; it’s all big and clunky and totally out of place. He should just leave it. He tells himself as much, but he picks it up anyway to inspect it. The Aquaberry logo is etched into the back of it, with some initials that aren’t Lola’s. Feeling cold all over, he all but slams it back down onto the sink, not saying a word as he returns to Lola’s bedroom.

Someone else has been here. Someone he needs to erase. He’s tried to pour out the intensity of his love for her, let her taste just a sample of it, praying she might feel it in return. It never works like that. He doesn’t think he’s bad at this, this relationship thing, the intimacy. She doesn’t act like he’s bad at it. But in the end, she always leaves. She always has somebody else.

She’s smiling when he walks in, but one look at his face and her expression falters. Her brow furrowing in concern, she shuffles toward him, still naked as the day she was born. She’s so beautiful, it’s no wonder everyone wants her. Johnny just wishes she didn’t want everyone else back.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she coos, reaching for him when he walks past.

He shirks away from her and starts pulling on his clothes. “That watch in there. That a present?”

“No,” she laughs, not even bothering to lie. God, he wishes she would just lie right now. “That’s Gord’s. He must have forgotten it. He was over, helping me with an English assignment. We’re partners.”

“Jesus,” Johnny says. “Were you fucking someone a few hours before you called me over? That’s sick.”

“It was days ago,” she says stiffly, as if that is the problem.

“Jesus,” Johnny says again, running his hands through his hair.

He should leave but he doesn’t have any strength in his legs. Instead, he sits, half-dressed, on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. She doesn’t even have the decency to pretend it’s not what he thinks it is. Instead, she grows icy cold beside him, taking up the defensive.

“It’s nothing,” she tells him. “How can I help it? Gord was just being nice. Some guys like to be nice to me, Johnny.”

“Yeah, when you’re nice first,” he snaps at her, getting to his feet.

Lola’s eyes are so hard now he wonders how he ever found them inviting. “So I can’t be nice to people now?”

“I don’t want you parading around like a slut,” he hisses. “You can be nice without fucking every guy who looks at you twice.”  
“You don’t know anything.”

“I ain’t stupid, Lola. What? You think I don’t hear what people say about you? You think I don’t hear about the shit you do?”

“I don’t mean to, Johnny,” she pleads, the ice shattering. Tears form in her eyes. “I like being wanted.”

He doesn’t want to give in now, not when she keeps doing this to him, not when she’s driving him crazy like this. “But I want you. Why ain’t that good enough?”

She bites her lip. “What are you gonna to do to Gord?”

He hears the shift in her tone, though she keeps it subtle. That soft, almost imperceptible switch from desperate to eager. And it hits home for him, maybe for the first time, that a switch is exactly what it is. She’s turned off the waterworks as easily as she’d turn off a lamp, and the true fact of the matter is that she’s not concerned that she’s hurt him. No, she’s only perversely excited for what Johnny’s anger might make him do next.

Wordlessly, Johnny pulls on the rest of his clothes. He can feel steel doors shutting inside him, closing him up and blocking her out. He keeps his lips tight together. Lola tugs at his sleeve when he goes to leave, pulling him back.

“What are you gonna do?”

When he’s angry at her, she soothes him. When he’s angry at other people, she points and watches him destroy. He’s sick of it. He needs to think and he can’t around her.

“Nothin’,” Johnny says, yanking his elbow away. He can’t look at her. “I don’t care.”

“Fine,” she says, the tears evaporating in seconds. “Leave, then. See if I care, Johnny.”

So he does.


	2. The Deal

Johnny doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Part of him wants Gord to show up, so he can dig his knuckles into the prep’s pompous face. Part of him is aching to get into any sort of fight as long as it results in some blood spilling from his rival clique. The rest of him knows that if he makes a big deal out of this, word will get back to Lola, and she’ll know he still cares. He’s still sore with her. He can’t bear doing something that’ll let her know how bad she’s getting to him.

The temptation to grovel is overwhelming. He should get to it already and he knows it. The whole problem is that he didn’t do it enough in the first place. Lola only does this when she wants some attention, devotion, passion… if he’d treated her like a queen to begin with he wouldn’t even be here. Maybe it is his fault. Maybe this wouldn’t keep happening if he knew how to treat a girl right.

Johnny can’t decide if he’s being too stubborn or too pathetic. Either way, he’s outside Harrington House, hovering near the bushes, waiting for someone to pick a fight with him just so that he can fight. No wonder Lola keeps straying from him. He can’t keep anything together without her. She’s probably sick to death of him.

He fishes around in his jacket for a smoke and lights it up, wedging it in between his teeth.

He lets the nicotine rush wash over him. Smoke clouds the air and clears his head. He’ll just talk to her, he decides. She’s gotta take him back. She’s his girl and she loves him.

"You aren’t supposed to smoke here.“

Johnny cracks open one eye to find Pinky Gauthier staring at him. She’s a tall girl and not nearly as curvaceous as Lola, though she is wearing a blue dress that makes her stand out like a sore thumb the way it’s cut. He almost doesn’t recognize her out of her usual Aquaberry threads, but he’d bet the dress is from some store just as glamorous and expensive. She’s dolled herself up on top of the new duds. She looks like she just walked off the cover of a magazine for teenage girls. Johnny rakes his eyes over her with only mild interest. He can’t recall ever talking directly to her, but that doesn’t mean he wants to, especially if she’s about to go off on him about something stupid.

Here he was, hoping for a fight.

"You’re supposed to be following the dress code,” he tells her, shrugging. Like he gives a crap about the dress code.

Pinky purses her lips. She must not be used to not being listened to. “For your information, I’m about to go shopping. In the Vale.”

She says it like he’s probably never heard of it, what with his upbringing. Just because he can’t afford Aquaberry’s new line of cashmere socks doesn’t mean he can’t afford a fucking map.

“Great, have fun. Now scram,” he tells her. “You’re blocking my view.”

“I’m blocking your view of Harrington House?” she asks, squinting at him. “What are you planning?”

Johnny takes a long, slow drag of his cigarette and breathes it into her face; she doesn’t cough, to her credit, though she looks like she’s about to. “Nothin’. You preppy broads always so suspicious?”

"Suspicion can be healthy. Just last week, mummy caught Margarite stashing some of her silver forks under her pillowcase,“ Pinky says dismissively, with a wave of her hand. 

She’s wearing an Aquaberry watch, he notices, and that only serves to sour his mood.

"Don’t work yourself up. Your forks are safe.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence where she tries to decide whether or not she trusts him on that. Johnny goes from finding her a vague nuisance to finding her incredibly annoying.

“If you’re not up to something, why don’t you make yourself useful?” Pinky suggests. “Give me a ride to the Vale.”

She must have missed the memo, but he’s not Margarite. He gives her a long, scrutinizing look and drops his cigarette to the ground, where he grinds it up beneath his boot heel. She watches him with wide, hopeful eyes. Does she honestly think she can bark a few orders at him and snap her fingers, and he’ll do a little dance for her? He’s not a servant and he’s certainly not a chauffeur.

“What makes you think I’d do that?”

“Uh,” Pinky says, clearly surprised at his lack of cooperation. “Because I asked you to?”

Johnny scoffs at her. “Listen, Miss Hoity-Toity. I dunno why you think the world revolves around you, ‘cuz it don’t. Center of my universe is my bike and my girl, ain’t no room for spoiled princesses who think they know what’s what.”

“Too bad the center of Lola’s universe isn’t you,” Pinky snaps, her bubbly demeanor shutting down entirely now he’s yelled at her. “Everybody knows she’s seeing Gord right now. Is that why you’ve got your wholesale underwear in a knot?”

That does it. Johnny can’t abide by hitting girls, but the temptation is awfully great right now. He needs to get out of here before he gets himself into even more trouble. He shrugs his jacket tighter around his torso and starts walking without a word. Pinky hovers after him as he makes to leave, her hand at her mouth.

"Hey, listen, I’m sorry,“ she is trying to say, but he ignores her, walking faster until her hand catches his elbow. "I’m sorry, I said!”

"Oh, you’re sorry?“ Johnny snaps at her, wheeling on her. "In that case, why don’t I drop everything I’m doin’ and bend over backwards to kiss your rear end?”

“You think I’m a total brat, don’t you?” Pinky replies. “I’ve got news for you, Johnny Vincent. You’re the one behaving like a spoiled child. Get over yourself. You aren’t the only one with problems, you know.”

"Oh yeah? What problems you got, princess?“

Pinky sticks her bottom lip out, then pulls it back and starts chewing on it. "I got stood up, all right? That’s why I need a ride to the Vale. Derby was supposed to get me there and he bailed on me. Again. Happy now?”

He isn’t, really. He’s starting to feel like an asshole again, not to mention getting tired of the taste of his own foot in his mouth. Jeez, if he’d known that she was in the same boat, he never would have picked on her. He doesn’t even know her, for chrissake. He rubs the back of his head, wondering if it’d be okay if he walked away now, or if they still have to talk because she successfully made him feel like a douchebag. Does that earn her some free minutes or something?

"Why don’t we make a deal?“ she offers, sighing. "You give me a ride to the Vale and I’ll show you where Gord’s house is. That’s why you came here, right? To mess with him? You should egg his house; give him a taste of his own medicine.”

Is he that predictable? More importantly, does the whole school really know that his girl is hanging around this Gord kid? That’s more humiliating than he can bear. How come the whole school has to know what his girl is up to? How come the whole school knew before he did?

“You’d do that?” Johnny asks, uncertain. He always thought the preps were thick as thieves. They all grew up together, or were related, or betrothed… or all three.

"If you get Derby’s house too,“ Pinky agrees. "I’ll teach him to treat me like a two-dollar tramp.”

He takes her hand when she holds it out, and shakes.

"All right, but this truce is temporary, princess. Don’t go thinkin’ I’m your new personal servant or whatever.“


	3. The Retaliation

Johnny wasn’t lying when he said his bike was a huge part of his life. Most of the money he’d made of the past two years had gone into his baby, replacing her parts bit by bit until she practically flew. She might not have been a shiny, brand-name beauty that the preps would envy, but she could trash just about anyone in a race. He is proud of her because he practically made her from scratch, yet when he wheels her out of the garage and Pinky gets a good look at her, he feels slightly embarrassed. Here is a chick used to driving around in limousines, probably, and he wants her to get on this machine he cobbled together himself.

"Hey, if you don’t wanna–“

"How interesting,” Pinky says with genuine fascination. “Did you build this yourself? Wow, the things you people can do when you have no alternative. It’s really inspiring.”

He gets the feeling that she’s at least trying to compliment him, so he doesn’t pry into why she said “you people”. He’s only just starting to be less mad at her about her digs at him earlier and he doesn’t want to make things worse, especially when he’s still kind of spoiling for a good fight.

Johnny figured when she asked for a ride, she meant she’d stand on his spokes and hold on. That’s what most people do when they don’t have bikes of their own – he figures, anyway, since everybody who’s anybody in his gang has their own ride. Instead, she clambers onto his handle bars. All he can say for it is at least she’s scrawny, because he’d never get away with doing this with Lola. He can barely steer when they start off, but eventually he gets used to barely being able to steer or see. He is determined not to wreck because this would be a very embarrassing way to die, and everyone would remember him as that kid who kicked the bucket trying to give Pinky Gauthier a ride. His name probably wouldn’t even make it into the papers.

If this is the way Pinky likes to travel, then he doesn’t blame Derby for not wanting to take her places. Then again, maybe she just doesn’t know better. Maybe when Derby gives her a ride he really does call a limo.

He wonders how many limo rides Lola’s been on, and pedals faster. He reminds himself how satisfying it will be to see Gord’s house covered in egg. Not to mention no one will figure it was him that did it. It’s not his usual style and houses get egged in the Vale all the time.

Johnny can’t say he’s not relieved when they arrive at the Aquaberry outlet in the Vale without incident. He’s shakier than Pinky is when he climbs off his bike and chains it up to the rack.

Pinky bustles into the shop without a word to him, making it very clear that he’s here as nothing more than a chauffeur. It burns him a bit, but he keeps in mind that they have a deal, and that don’t make them friends. He might be a chauffeur right now but at least she’s agreed to be an accomplice. Besides, Lola’s made him feel like less before.

He contemplates going in after Pinky but he doesn’t want to cramp the girl’s style. He’s never been into an Aquaberry store and he doesn’t really want to start now.

After a few minutes, Pinky emerges again carrying a tiny, glass bottle.

"You made me take you all the way out here for a thing of perfume?“ Johnny asks incredulously.

Pinky gives him a withering look. "Obviously you wouldn’t understand, but this just came out and I’d be a total social outcast if I wasn’t wearing it as soon as possible.”

“Whatever, let’s just get goin’,” Johnny says. All that crap smells the same to him, except whatever stuff it is that Lola wears, and he just likes that by association.

“Let’s walk,” Pinky suggests to his relief.

They stop by the YumYum Market to pick up the goods. Johnny can’t decide whether Pinky buys the eggs to be nice or because she thinks he can’t even afford that, so he doesn’t say thanks just in case. He holds the carton tightly in both hands as they walk, unsure of how he’s feeling about this whole thing. It’s less direct than he’d like to be. He’d like to smush Gord’s face into the ground with his shoe. He has to wonder if this will be as satisfying.

By the time they reach the scumbag’s house, Johnny doesn’t even care. Just seeing it and thinking about how often Lola must be there these days makes him sure he wants to vandalize it. Pinky goes as far as to open the gate for him, but she stops outside.

"Just save some of those for Derby,“ she reminds him.

Johnny is half hoping that Gord will pop up halfway through, but that would defeat the purpose of doing something that Lola won’t necessarily tie back to him. She might take any act against Gord as an apology to her or something. 

He tosses a few eggs into an open window on the second story and is surprised to see that it is actually very satisfying. He hopes he’s hitting something expensive and not stain-resistant.

He uses half the carton, true to his word, up and down the house. By the end, everything is very yellow and sticky. He’s feeling a lot better by the time he gets back to Pinky.

"You really enjoy the simpler things,” she says wistfully, seeing his smile.

"I really enjoy wrecking that Gord kid’s life,“ he corrects. 

Pinky nods in agreement. "Let’s get Derby next.”

He follows her further down the street and around the corner. By now, things are starting to get dark, but Johnny doesn’t mind if she doesn’t. When they reach Derby’s house, it’s obvious why he’s in charge and Gord isn’t. His place makes Vendome’s look like, well, Johnny’s place in the tenements.

"Is he even gonna notice if we egg it?“ Six eggs hardly seems enough to even get started.

"Trust me, he’ll notice,” Pinky says, downright wickedly. “I know which room is his.”

She snatches an egg in each hand and stalks around the house until she finds his window. It’s not open but she hurls them anyway, and they crack and burst open all over the glass. She grabs two more and does the same, and it seems to be cathartic for her or Johnny might suggest they egg more than one spot.

"Take that you inconsiderate ass!“ Pinky yells, throwing the final egg squarely against the window frame. They barely avoid the yolk dripping back down, and she starts laughing. "That felt good.”

“Looked like it did,” Johnny says. “Maybe we should get outta here before his butlers find us.”

“Gardeners,” she corrects, but she starts running and he follows, tossing the empty carton aside.

For a rich girl she can run pretty fast when she wants to. They are both panting when the stop at the end of the street.

"You all right getting home?“ she asks when she catches her breath.

"Without some chick sitting on my handlebars?” he says, not unkindly. “Yeah.”

She laughs, then looks at him like he’s just turned into another person. “You know, it was really nice of you to give me a ride, Johnny. And to help with Derby.”

"Yeah, well, we had a deal,“ he says, wiping his hands on the front of his jacket.

"Thank you,” she tells him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

He doesn’t know if she means that he gave her a ride, egged some houses, or that she gave him a kiss. He’s so surprised he can’t think of anything to say.

"I liked your bike,“ Pinky adds with an embarrassed smile.

"Thanks,” Johnny stammers. “Uh, later I guess.”

"Maybe, yeah,“ Pinky says, and leaves him to try and figure out what exactly just happened and whether or not he liked it.


	4. The Sign

It’s for the best that he doesn’t see Pinky around for a few days after their egg run. Johnny’s pretty sure she got the wrong idea about his motives for helping her out. She’s a pretty girl and all, but he’s only got eyes for Lola. Pinky isn’t really his type anyway. Firstly, he doesn’t think she much cares for bikes, grease, or his fashion sense. Secondly, he doesn’t figure the things he thinks are fun would also be fun for her. She’s far too high-maintenance for a guy like him, who can barely afford to keep up with his own simple needs.

That’s it. He just can’t deal with high-maintenance gals. The only high-maintenance thing he wants in his life is his bike.

Johnny sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. Lola, his queen, is anything but low-maintenance. He ain’t fooling anyone if he goes trying to prove otherwise.  
Speaking of not fooling anyone, he’s getting real sick of his friends asking about Lola. So this time when Johnny heads toward Harrington House, it’s less to look for a fight and more to hide until the storm blows over. It’s not even deliberately that he walks in that direction.

Ordinarily, he’s apologized to Lola a hundred times by now, but this fight is going a little differently. And everybody knows it. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Lola since their fight because he hasn’t sought her out, but he’s heard plenty, and all of it bad. Seems this Gord kid has been making her very happy, and she’s been heard in the cafeteria loudly explaining all the ways in which Johnny did not. It’s enough to make a guy go nuts, and his boys know it. That’s why Johnny’s sick of their faces, every single one. If one more person gives him that pitying look, he’s going to smash in their nose. Not to mention if he gets his hands on Gord, he’s going to put him in the hospital, no matter what Lola would think about it.

He’s not so sure that it’d be any easier to get over Lola if people would stop bringing her up. It doesn’t feel like he ever will no matter what – he still loves her, after all. But it does help to leave the garage and get some fresh air, and for a few blissful moments he doesn’t have to think about her or who she’s with or what she’s doing with them. 

While his gang have been giving him nothing but pity-eyes, the rest of the school seems to be afraid that he’ll snap at any moment. It’s a legitimate fear, to be fair, but Johnny doesn’t like the frightened looks any better than the sympathetic ones. He can’t decide what he hates more: the fact that everyone expects him to go psycho because of Lola, or the fact that he very well might.

He’s clenching his fists and his teeth by the time he reaches prep territory. What he expects to find here, even Johnny doesn’t know.

That’s not entirely true. He doesn’t have many friends outside his clique, so Pinky’s the closest thing to an objective party. She’s not a friend really, but she and Derby are on similarly thin ice and she might actually understand, unlike his real pals. Also, she kissed him – albeit on the cheek – so that elevates her to something beyond “acquaintance” by default, even if it continues to be a source of confusion for him.

He is surprised to find that there is already a crowd around Harrington House when he gets there.

Without much of a sense of urgency, Johnny walks over to try and see what’s up. He can’t see over the throng, but he can hear just fine, and what he hears is this:

"That’s perfectly fine. Say whatever you like to me. But don’t forget that my family owns your family. I doubt your father will be happy when he finds out how unhappy you’ve made me. I know he hates poor investments.“

Johnny recognizes that voice. Derby Harrington. He’s had enough rough encounters with that prick to know his slimy, condescending tones. When they were freshmen, he lost count of the amount of times he bloodied his knuckles against Derby’s face. Now that they are seniors, Harrington’s wised up a bit and started sending others to do his dirty work whenever there are conflicts with the greasers, which suits Johnny just fine. He can just as easily use Derby’s goons for target practice.

That said, Johnny wouldn’t hesitate one moment to dig his fist into Derby’s cheek for old time’s sake if he were the one being addressed like that. And from the resonating slapping sound that follows, whoever Derby is arguing with agrees.

"Fuck you, Derby.”

The crowd clears as Derby shoves his way through it. He stops dead in his tracks when he spies Johnny, and Johnny doesn’t even have time to react before Derby punches him square in the gut. All the air leaves his lungs in one wheeze. Johnny’s knees hit the ground. In the time between freshman year and now, Derby Harrington learned to punch. Johnny doesn’t get enough air back into his body to ask what the fuck that was for before Derby storms off. He manages to get to his feet after a moment, anger coursing through him and no way to diffuse it. His list of people he seriously needs to damage has grown.

“Hey? Why don’t you bunch of vultures find someone else to bother?” he snaps at the crowd.

Like startled crows, they head off in all directions, leaving Johnny alone with Pinky, who is openly crying. He hesitates. He knows perfectly well what to say when Lola is crying. Confessions of love and promises to uphold her honor never fail to cheer up his queen. Pinky is another puzzle entirely, one which he’s sure he has no business trying to solve anyway. Nonetheless, he finds his hand on her shoulder without really thinking about it.

"You all right?“ he asks. "That was, uh, cold. Even for Derby.”

Pinky’s eyes are rimmed with red and very puffy, but she looks angrier than she is sad. “He’s such a dick. He didn’t mind at all when I was dating Jimmy, but now his dad is pressuring him and suddenly it’s important who I spend my time with.”

A puzzle piece clicks into place. “That explains why he slugged me, I guess.”

“Did he? I didn’t see,” Pinky says. “I’m sorry.”

“Takes more than that to keep me down,” Johnny tells her, though he still aches where Derby’s fist collided with his gut. “Be more worried about your future husband. I’ll rearrange his face one day and make it real hard to give out any more orders.”

“I don’t care what you do to him.” Pinky’s voice is downright venomous. Then, she sighs. “But I do, of course. Our family wants us to get married one day. But wanting something to work and having it actually work are obviously two very different things. Why do guys have to be so…”

Johnny shrugs. He could ask her why girls have to be so, but she wouldn’t have any more answers than he does, he’d bet.

"Maybe you should try and explain,“ he suggests. "There ain’t nothin’ between us.”

“That was me trying to explain,” Pinky replies bitterly. “If he would have let me finish instead of flying off the handle.”

That sounds so familiar that it hurts. Guiltily, Johnny looks anywhere but at Pinky. Suddenly, he can’t get the idea of Lola crying the same way out of his head, and it’s the worst thing he’s ever thought of. And his fault, if it has really happened.

He doesn’t have any answers for Pinky, so all he can do is endeavor to get her to stop crying. “Me and Lola fight all the time. Give it a few days and it won’t seem so bad. If it’s important to him, Derby will come crawling back.”

He’s just described his fucking life story, but it makes a little more sense now. Somewhere, Lola’s feeling just as trashed as Pinky is, and if Johnny’s any kind of man, he’ll suck up his pride and apologize to her. He owes her a chance to explain herself. He owes her everything. Most of all he owes her an apology, for treating her like dirt. He’s just been waiting for something to confirm what he needs to do. This is his sign.

“You think so?” Pinky sniffs. “I’m not sure he cares enough.”

“If not,” Johnny assures her, “then he’s a moron.”

Like me. He resolves to find Lola this very night, and tell her how sorry he is. How much he loves her.


	5. The Apology

He’s been saving up for new brakes, but Johnny knows his money is better spent on his apology. Lola won’t think it means much unless he has something to show for it in addition to a plain old ‘I’m sorry’. Especially since he usually makes a show of missing her when they’re apart, often by breaking someone else’s nose in her honor. 

He stops by the YumYum Market and buys the biggest, freshest bouquet of flowers he can find, as well as some chocolates. The row of eggs in the freezer catches his eye on the way to the register and Johnny can’t resist a small smile. He owes Pinky something nice for all she’s done, probably. Not only did she help him egg a scumbag’s house, but she also reminded him to be the sort of man Lola deserves. 

Pinky must have expensive taste, he’s sure, but something small to say thanks wouldn’t hurt. Lola comes first though, obviously. And tonight is going to be about her.

He forks over the cash for the flowers and candy, and balances them awkwardly as he walks back to his bike and clambers onto it. He pedals hard, wind mussing his hair and crinkling the thin paper wrapped around the bouquet. A nearly manic happiness is swelling in his chest at the prospect of finally seeing Lola again and getting this awful period of silence behind them. There is the smallest fear that she won’t be happy to see him, but it’s drowned out by the assurance that if he can just show her how he feels and that he’s sorry, she’ll have to forgive him. She does love him, after all, and he knows he loves her more than that Gord kid ever could.

The sky is just darkening and the light is on in her window when he pulls up to her house. There was always the slim chance she might have spent the weekend in the girls’ dorm, and he’s relieved to see that she’s here. Johnny drops his bike in the grass in his hurry to get to her. He raps on the window once, twice, his heart rampaging in his chest and the presents hidden behind his back.

This has got to work.

After a long, painful silence the window cracks open and his queen’s face peeks out at him from beneath the lifted blinds. Her eyebrows arch in a show of surprise. She’s beautiful enough to take his breath away, even now, dressed in her pajamas with her hair artfully disheveled.

“Johnny?” She blinks rapidly. “What are you doing here? I thought you gave up on me.”

A pang of guilt tugs at him. “I’d never do that. I was a fool. I didn’t even let you explain the other night. I got pissed and nearly ruined everything.”

“I’m not so sure you didn’t,” she whispers back, gaze dropping. “Do you know how I felt being ignored like that? I thought you were never gonna talk to me again.”

There’s a sense of desperation mingling with that manic feeling from before now. What if this doesn’t work? What if he’s gone too far this time, and she can’t forgive him? He’s not sure he can take it, not after everything they’ve been through together. He does need her, she must know that.

Unsure of how to express that need further, he gingerly holds out the flowers and the cheap box of chocolates. “Please, Lola. I’m sorry if I hurt ya.”

She takes a breath, her eyes flicking from his to the presents and back to him again. Then she shrugs her slender shoulders and takes a step back.

“Come in.”

Relief floods through him like a dam has burst. He hooks his leg over the window sill and ducks into her bedroom with practised ease. It feels like coming home when he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to again. There is still an awkward tension between them, or he’d kiss her right away, shower her with all the affection she deserves. Instead, he hands her his gifts and she takes them, holding the flowers up to her nose and letting out a small, nervous giggle.

It warms him to his bones. 

“This was awful sweet of you, Johnny,” Lola says, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. “It’s been a while since you got me flowers.”

Even though she’s not meaning to pile on the guilt, he still feels the weight of it and rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I swear, Lola, you take me back and I’ll get you flowers every day if you want. I ain’t never gonna let you forget how important you are to me again.”

“You really mean it?” He can see the tears welling in her eyes and he knows these must be the real deal. He can hear it in her voice.

This was why she strayed, maybe. She felt like he was taking her for granted. He just can’t let it get like that again. He’ll show her this time; show her what she means to him, even if he has to fight off a dozen Gord Vendomes.

“‘Course I do, Lola,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I mean it.”

She sets the presents on her dresser with care and turns to him again, a grin on her ruby red lips. Johnny feels nothing but gratitude when she slides into his arms and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Well, nothing but gratitude and a weird sensation of deja vu. Except last time someone kissed his cheek, it wasn’t Lola’s perfume he smelled or the curve of Lola’s hips under his hands. It was something from an Aquaberry bottle and the brush of an expensive blue dress against his hands as he quickly pulled them back. 

Guilt strikes like a lightning bolt when he realizes he’s thinking of Pinky instead of his girl, and Johnny jerks his head away before he can help it.

Just like that, and the manic happiness he was feeling seems to dry up like water spilled in the desert. He scrambles to get it back, but all he can manage is feeling confused and anxious, like he’s done something wrong.

A crease forms between Lola’s carefully contoured eyebrows. “Johnny? Everything okay, baby?”

“Y-yeah, yeah. Of course. I was just, uh… nervous. I was real nervous that you would just tell me to scram.” The half-lie comes out smoother than he could have hope, and he sells it with a nervous roll of his shoulders and a puppy-dog look.

Lola smiles in a way that lets him know he’s being foolish. “Oh, Johnny. I couldn’t do that. You know I love ya. You know I do.”

She raises a hand to his cheek. Her skin is so soft.

“I know it,” he says, tightening his grip on her. On reality. “I love you too, girl.”

“I like to hear you say it,” Lola says, her eyes narrowing in a familiar, playful way. “But how about you show me, Johnny Vincent?”

It’s strange. He should be so much more excited about that prospect, but the usual flood of happiness and relief that comes with making back up with Lola just ain’t there.

He swallows hard, knowing he’s thinking way more than he should. It’s not as if he asked Pinky to kiss him, or even wanted it to happen. And it ain’t as if he cheated on Lola. A kiss on the cheek is a long way from fucking anyone.

If he doesn’t do something soon, she’s gonna notice that something’s different. So Johnny forces down the feeling of doing something wrong and does what he knows is right, which is kiss his girl.

He knows it’s right. So why does it feel like it isn’t at all?


	6. The Advice

After rescinding a break-up, Lola and Johnny are normally inseparable for a couple of weeks at least. He’s infamous for missing class for a time after, even Shop, and not even stopping by the garage to do the usual maintenance on his baby. This time is different. If Lola notices, Johnny isn’t sure, because they haven’t even talked today. He’s been avoiding the interaction and Lola, who has always firmly believed that a man should chase her if he ever wants to be worth her while, hasn’t gone out of her way to seek him out. It feels like they’re still fighting.

Except that when they’re fighting, Johnny feels more of a drive to prove himself to her; to win her back. Now it just feels helplessly stagnant. He’s not sure what to call this in-between thing. Not fighting and not hopelessly infatuated with each other. Something else they’ve never been up until now.

He’s not sure how his feet got used to carrying him to Harrington House while his mind is occupied, since he’s only made the trip twice, but it’s where they seem to think he needs to be. Johnny’s face wrinkles as he notices where he’s ended up, and he fishes violently for a cigarette in the depths of his leather jacket. It’s almost aggressive, the way he shoves it to his mouth, as though he’s simultaneously shoving out all the confusing thoughts in his mind.

The flood of smoke in his lungs does bring him a little bit of comfort. The simple, practical act of lighting up a smoke is pretty far removed from all the complex games Lola’s been playing, and it feels nice. Secure.

“You really are making this place smell like a pool hall,” says a by-now familiar voice.

Since it sounds more like Pinky’s teasing than nagging, he flashes her what grin he can muster, feeling the way he is. “Princess, somethin’ tells me you got no idea what a pool hall smells like.”

“Cheap leather and cigarettes?” She guesses, coming over to stand beside him, to the side where the smoke’s not blowing.

The dig is a little too close to what’s real important. “Hey, now.”

“Sorry,” Pinky says. “It’s actually a very nice jacket, for a-- it’s a nice jacket. It suits you.”

He’s not sure what to say, so he doesn’t for a bit, just stands and draws on his cigarette. The quietness that comes over them is oddly comfortable, and Johnny feels unsure about that. It probably shouldn’t be like that. Not when it’s so uncomfortable around the girl he loves. It’s too close to something Lola might do to hurt him, this, even though he and Pinky are just friends. If that.

He’s gotta fill the silence. “You and Derby make up yet?”

“Well.” Pinky sighs heavily. “Not exactly. I guess what you said is true: if he cared, he’d be crawling back to me. But he isn’t, so I guess that means he doesn’t. He really must think I’m worth nothing at all. I mean, does he even know who I am?”

It’s funny. He’d be put off by the arrogance under normal circumstances, but knowing it’s her and knowing that she’s hurting, it just seems kinda silly. Everyone knows who she is, after all, and she oughta be confident enough in that not to worry about it. But then, Derby Harrington has a way of making just about anyone feel like garbage, and Johnny can relate to that.

“He’s the one who ain’t worth it,” he says, breathing out a stream of smoke. “He’s tryin’ to get you to grovel even though you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Pinky regards him with an expression he can’t quite read, and then quickly looks away, watching the small trickle of other students milling about in front of the fountain. “I don’t mind so much. I always thought we’d be together because daddy always said so. It’s not like it’s what I want.”

“No?” He’s genuinely surprised by that. Derby and Pinky seemed about as fated as him and Lola. Two hoity-toity snobs in a pod.

Though Pinky doesn’t have her nose quite as high in the air as he used to think.

“I never thought about it, I guess, since I figured it’d be me and Derby and that was that. I’m not interested in him like that, though. I’m interested in… somebody else.”

Johnny mulls that over for a second. “Who? Jimmy?”

Pinky giggles. She’s giving him that look again. “I like Jimmy, he’s sweet, but that’s been done for ages.”

“Hey, you know, whoever it is, I’d say go for it. Derby’s not worth the dog shit in the yard, much less a cute girl like you.”

That makes her smile, and it’s so bright and warm it’s like the sun just rose. Johnny’s used to Lola responding positively to flattery, but the look on Pinky’s face is so genuinely surprised and happy that even he’s thrown off-kilter by it. Heck, any boy she looks at like that is definitely gonna feel lucky. Derby’s a moron -- that’s nothing new.

Guilt washes over him, thick and slow and tar-like. He enjoys Pinky’s company, but it’s starting to feel more and more like he shouldn’t.

“Hey, uh,” he says lamely. “Thanks for talkin’, princess, but I should probably go. I don’t wanna keep Lola waitin’.”

Pinky’s expression settles into something a lot harder. “No problem.”

“It’s not that I’m not enjoying the talk,” he says quickly, feeling like he’s offended her. “You know, you ain’t nearly as snooty as you make yourself out to be.”

“And you’re not nearly the delinquent I thought you were,” Pinky retorts, brightening just a bit. “I’m glad we can be friends, Johnny.”

There it is. They’re friends. Johnny isn’t sure what to make of the fact that it makes him feel simultaneously happy and guiltier than a whore in church. He oughta talk to Lola about this, just to make sure things are straight. Because it’s just friendship, obviously. He’s not interested in more and Pinky just finished saying she’s got a guy on her mind.

“Yeah. Hell, me too,” he says.

It surprises him when she wraps her arms around him for a hug, burrowing them under his jacket, but he manages to get his arms around her too. He thinks about how fragile she feels compared to Lola, who is all curves and lean muscle where Pinky is delicate all over like one of those fancy, extremely breakable egg things. The smell of that Aquaberry perfume is everywhere, and he wonders if it’s gonna cling to him after this. It’s not like he doesn’t like it, but that’d be a hell of thing to explain to Lola.

He coughs nervously, takes a step back. Pinky tucks a stray piece of hair back into place behind her ear.

“I’ll see you around, Johnny. Thanks again. I already decided I don’t want to be with Derby, but it helped to talk about it,” she tells him, and she’s off too quickly for him to do anything but give her an awkward wave.

He wishes he knew what he wanted with that sort of clarity. That it was as easy as saying he did or didn’t want to be with someone, and that was that.


End file.
